How to be alone in a full elevator. How to blame your headache on q-tips. How to build a snowman without the use of your hands. How to slip in the bathtub. How to write a fan letter to a recovering porn star. How to date tropical fruits. How to fill the mouth with tiny marshmallows. How to cream. How to sever roots. How to do laps around a graveyard. How to fake enthusiasm for rainbows. How to gorge yourself on gorgeousness. How to avoid choking on shrimp heads. How to spot a fluking whale. How to sit on your own lap. How to throw a party for beach lizards. How to radiate yellow. How to desire no one. How to dream yourself into reality. How to dress like Izanami-no-Mikoto. How to knoll pencil shavings. How to bandage invisible scrapes. How to suck marrow from the bone. How to trust untrustworthy camels.

“If you shake hands with the devil, will he singe your fingers, or worse? If you advocate for a Net-limited life, do you risk obsolescence and ossification? And is it really that cut and dried—are we either constantly checking status updates or off in the woods as neo-Luddites kindling fires with flint and steel? These are murky-bottomed eddies, and Fenton is to be commended for wading into them.”